Page 123 of The Stolen Throne
I’m thinking Bene has the most to do with that. No way would they expect us to have a Devourer on our side. It’ll make them rethink their strategies, at least.
And then there’s the issue of Reven disappearing goddess knows how many of Tyndra’s soldiers. The last time he did it in the Shadowood, he managed to take out the soldiers in the tower twenty or more leagues away. I’m guessing none of the soldiers in Wildernyss were safe. Quinten, if he survived, will need to regroup. And Eidolon…
Well, now he knows what he’s up against.
But do I?
Eidolon’s words circle over and over in my mind.
Even you can be corrupted. If it’s for her.
It wasn’t the words, entirely, but the way he said it. Almost gleeful, like he was delighted to see exactly how dark Reven is willing to go. For me, though? He was protecting all of us and probably trying to kill Eidolon…right?
By the time we meet up with the zariphate, at sunset two days after getting to Aryd, Reven is awake. And himself, thank the goddesses. He was Shadow when he passed out, so we weren’t sure.
After a single, groggy blink, I got a single surge of gut-curdling guilt down the line of our connection before he came to enough to shut me off again. Since then, he’s been shaky, silent, and set apart from us even more than before.
I hate it.
I hate that he’s hurting. I hate that there’s nothing I can do to help him. I hate that he can’t let me try anyway. And that I understand why.
Being understanding sucks. No wonder Pella is always so grumpy, as an empath.
Just for added fun for me, Reven also still has anger radiating off him like a mirage in the noon sun, all directed at me. And judging by the looks I’ve gotten from Cain, for once those two are on the same side. They’re both mad at me for risking myself to help him.
All of this to say that, as we come into the camp, every single one of us is hot, sweaty, exhausted, and in a piss-poor mood.
The zariphate camp is bustling when we reach it, having just settled after traveling through the heat of the day, still sticking to that pattern of evasive daytime traveling. As I dismount, I see Reven, under the cover of the chaos of greetings stirred up by our arrival, stalk off by himself. I try not to watch, but I do anyway, until he’s out of sight. When I look away, it’s to find Cain staring at me over the back of his horse.
Not at me. At the cuff on my wrist. A flicker of happiness crosses his features, but then he glances up to catch me watching and schools it.
I don’t bother to hide a long sigh. All I want is to get to a tent and be alone for a while.
“You’re here!”
Vida’s cry is a welcome distraction. She runs my way and throws her arms around me. I guess I’m getting used to how much she likes to hug, because I don’t even stiffen. Just hug her back.
“You okay?” she asks.
I nod, then start digging through my saddlebags. “I have something for you.” I produce her shears. On a sheer stroke of luck, I’d given them to Tziah, who’d had them in her pocket when we came through my portal.
Vida gives a small squeal of delight. “You remembered!”
Which makes me smile. At least someone is happy.
She hugs them to her chest, and then her eyes light up as she looks over my shoulder. “Oh my goddess, Hakan!” She runs to him, though she’s careful not to touch. A happy reunion, if the small crack of a smile he gives is any indication.
“My son has returned!” the zariph booms as he appears from around the side of a tent.
None of us are in a talkative mood, and maybe Cain’s father can see that, because after clasping hands with Cain and nodding at Pella, rather than demanding details, he takes one look at the rest of us and says, “Bathe, eat, rest. We’ll leave in the morning after sunrise. We can talk before we break camp in the morning.”
We should be going to the next dominion in the morning, not continuing on with the zariphate. Eidolon could be closing in on another amulet as we sleep.
Zariph Cainis blocks my path before I can leave. “Your…er…Omma arrived.”
It’s probably the stress, but I can’t stop from huffing a laugh, and then blink in surprise as the zariph offers a genuine, if rueful, grin.
I glance around. “Is she making herself useful?”
